Game Of Seduction

Chapter 16

Brad and the team settle into their quarters. They're cramped and they have to share, but as Sir Francis reminds them, at least they are close to court. They can start the investigation, keep their ears close to the ground.

Walsingham has managed to regain his composure most remarkably, although he's not above making sarcastic little comments at Walt and Ray's expense whenever the fancy takes him.

"Screwing a princess." He mutters loud enough that Walt and Ray catch it as they walk down the corridor to their new rooms. "Didn't even know. Didn't you boys even ask for a name, or was that the last thing on your minds? You lads have got to be careful with these French girls-"

Walt doesn't say anything out loud. He manages to control himself from reacting to his boss's goodnatured jibes; he's relieved that at the moment, he and Ray aren't in more serious trouble for their nocturnal exploits. He just lets him vent all down the corridor, hoping he'll get bored and run out of steam eventually.

When Sir Francis and the team are introduced to the King and the Queen Mother, they start to get a feel for the personalities at the court and how this is going to affect their mission.

Catherine is a forbidding woman, clad in deepest mourning as she has been since the death of her husband Henri II. Her sharp dark eyes set in that sallow 'colourless face stare at her new guests. That forbidding stern line of her mouth with its deep dour lines. It's hard to believe that she is the fair, vivacious Margot's mother.

"My Lord Walsingham. I was beginning to wonder when you were going to grace our court with your presence." Even after all these years at the French court, the Italian accent of her youth is still noticeable. It gives her an air of separation, or otherliness.

Sir Francis takes it in his stride, giving the Queen Mother a courtly bow and his most charming smile. Brad wonders how he can bring himself to be pleasant to her, given her grim reputation."I was under instruction from my royal mistress. I wanted to be sure that we had established the terms of negotiation. You must understand that she is very keen to wed at last."

"That lame old mule!" mutters Anjou from his mother's side. He gives the team a provoking smirk as he makes sure they can all hear his insolent remarks.

Walt's hand instantly goes to his dagger at the insult to his queen. How dare this perfumed little popinjay insult their Queen!

"The mincing little creature's wearing more makeup than she is. Don't bother Walt; he's not worth drawing your dagger over." whispers Ray, always ready with a quip to diffuse the situation.

"Peace, Lord Hasser-" hisses Brad, though, by the set of his chin and the gleam in his eye, it's obvious he takes equal offence. "Don't give him the satisfaction."

"I'm glad I don't have to marry that wizened old creature with her sore leg. I don't know how I would bear it! " Anjou continues, still trying to provoke the team.

"Enough, Anjou." Catherine says, although the team notice it's without rancour. She strokes his head indulgently, twining his glossy dark curls around her fingers. He preens under her caresses, knowing they mark him out as the favoured one.

"Oh, for a dark alleyway, half an hour and a cudgel." mutters Brad.

The king enters still in his riding gear, surrounded by a pack of his dogs.

"Where have you been?" Catherine asks, sharp as ever. Brad notices the difference in tone between the way that she refers to him and the indulgent tone of voice she reserves for Anjou. Catherine has favourites, I see. Even among her own children.

"Out hunting. I couldn't bear to be cooped up in the palace a moment longer."

"You have guests, Charles." Catherine says coolly. "You should make an effort and greet them."

He turns to Sir Francis and the team, pulling off his doeskin gauntlets.

"I hope you make yourself at home in our court." Charles says distractedly before devoting himself to his dogs. The pack jostle eager to get near their master. He feeds them by hand, giving them strokes and cuffs depending on their behaviour. "I assume you'll want to discuss your mistress's conditions for the treaty. Tell me; is she keen to ally herself with my brother Alençon?"

"That is the understanding, your Majesty." Walsingham says, neutral as ever.

"I have much to do, but I'll organise a meeting. We'll discuss this at length. I'm sure Elizabeth will have issues she will want to be resolved before we sign off any treaties." He holds out a hand for Sir Francis to shake, all friendliness and amity. "I welcome you and your team to my court and hope you will all do us the honour of attending my sister's forthcoming wedding. The event of the season!"

"What did you notice about the king, apart from his youth?" murmurs Sir Francis to Brad as he passes his protégè.

Notice? thinks Brad. Nothing at first. Charles at first glance seems nondescript, having none of the beauty or glamour of his siblings Marguerite or even that irritatingly flamboyant fop Anjou. A wren instead of a swan or a peacock. He's tall and thin with sharp pale pointed features and longish lank light brown hair which no amount of jewels and clothes can disguise and make fashionable. The only remarkable feature that strikes one on the first impression is those wide spaced hazel eyes, almost golden in the light. His one claim to beauty.

"An interesting character. Keep an eye on him, Brad."

"He may look like a weakling but I think there's more to him than meets the eye. Did you notice how clearly he took in who we are and what we were doing at his court, without seeming to? This man as unprepossessing as he looks has managed to keep the throne of France for twelve years against the odds. We underestimate him at our peril."

Catherine and the king are watching the young courtiers dance, Sir Francis unobtrusively at their side. He notes how they discuss everyone; who's sleeping with whom, who hates the other, the casual lies and intrigue of Court. This is information he needs, he thinks and resolves to get his men into the inner circle of court and start finding out the information they need to foil the plot.

He sees Ray and Margot clasp hands in the courante, laughing gaily at some comment he makes as he brushes close. Sir Francis notices the sweet beguiling smile she bestows on him to the envy of the court bucks preening round them eager for attention. Interesting, he broods, but that's not what he needs. Ideally he wants something else, something more intimate.

"Oh no, she'll insist on dancing the Volta with de Guise causing another scandal again. This is not good." He hears one courtier with his sharp hearing say to another as they pass.

"Ah, but we have new blood in the water. Watch and observe, things could get very interesting here."

As the slow insistent pulse of the Volta starts, Margot slowly raises her hands and claps to signal the start of the dance. De Guise confidently steps forward for their practiced ritual of defiance, but she moves straight past him, leaving him stranded on the dance floor to his fury, and gestures to Walt.

"Go on." urges Ray with a nudge. "She wants you to dance with her."

"The Volta?"

"It'll be fine. Don't worry about it. You know the steps, don't you?"

Walt feels self-conscious as he performs the opening steps of the Volta in front of the entire court. He's a soldier by nature, not a courtier, and though Sir Francis insisted the team took extensive lessons in all the courtly graces so they fitted into this rarefied world, he worries he might give himself away.

Margot echoes his steps, her movement fluid and sensual. It awakens his desire for her, despite the fact she lied to him about her identity. The provocative sway of her waist as she passes in front of him incites him to slide his hands around it and pull her close. He hears her little sigh of desire as she practically grinds herself against his codpiece. He knows how to do this now, though it feels perfectly indecent and forbidden. Use the formality and ritual of the dance to express his feelings; and she by the glint in her blue eyes is prepared to play the game, just as well as he. He lifts her high, and lets her glide down the entire length of his body.

"My lady?"

"Can you forgive me, dear Walt?" she says quietly in his ear as he clasps her close. "Do you understand why I didn't want to tell you who I really was? I wanted to spare you all this, I really did."

"Was all of it a lie?" he asks her.

She kisses him in response, not caring that they are being watched by the entire court. Walt is amazed at her boldness before her mouth lands on his. "Not this-"

He can't help responding to her, it's inevitable. The physical chemistry between them is still there. But Walt remembers afterwards, Ray's hand on his prick. His admission that he'd desired him since the Netherlands expedition. f*****g him in that tavern room, the early morning light filtering through the windows. He feels very confused and more alone than ever.

At the end of the dance Catherine claps very deliberately and gives her daughter a rare small smile. She almost seems to bask in the approval from her mother.

"Margot and the Englishman...How very interesting..." she muses before catching Sir Francis's eye. "Lord Walsingham, could I have a swift word ?"

Brad sees the masked man approaching them as they gather for the meeting.

Is this who we're waiting for? he asks himself. What can he offer that we can't do for ourselves?

Ever since Walsingham had told him he was one of those pampered indolent courtiers in the bower when they arrived at Fontainebleau, he doubts that he would be up to the job, even though his dispatches had more than spoken for themselves and Walsingham was more than satisfied with his work.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Something came up at the palace and I was required to deal with it."

Brad can't read his eyes hidden behind the mask but Walsingham seems to trust this man and his information. He couldn't be completely incompetent if he had managed to conceal his identity at court for all this time. Perhaps this agent has hidden depths.

He handed Walsingham a large packet of paper. "My dispatches for the week, sir. I hope you find them useful."

"I need to make an introduction. This is Sir Brad Colbert and Sir Walter Hasser. You'll be working with them at the palace. Brad is one of our best agents. We're going to get to the bottom of this poison plot and if he can help you with the de Guise investigation. This is Nate Fick, court favourite, musician and my agent at court. "

The man nods.

"Why don't you take off your mask?" Brad asks. He knows he sounds antagonistic but he doesn't care. This place unsettles him and the way that a comparative innocent like Walt has been unwittingly dragged into their sordid intrigue disgusts him. Walt's a good loyal man, an excellent soldier and fighter, an honest man. He doesn't deserve to be dragged into some labyrinthine s****l intrigue for the amusement of a ruthless Queen Mother and her spoilt nymphomaniac daughter. Logically he knows this wasn't Nate's fault, he merely works here. How can he bear to work with this every day? How can he not be stained with their corruption?

Nate takes off his mask. "You're right, Lord Colbert." he agrees. "We work for the same side; we ought to be able to trust each other."

Brad sees pretty green eyes, a kissable pink rosebud of a mouth curling up into a slight smile. A youthful looking face. He looks barely out of his mid-teens, so terribly young to be engaged in Walsingham's dirty work. No wonder they all adore him here at court. He looks so harmless. Who would ever suspect such an innocent looking lad of spying for Walsingham?

"Well?"

Brad knows he was staring, and Nate has called him on it. He can't help himself though.

"Do you feel able to trust me now? Now that you've seen my true face?" He actually has the gall to look amused. "-Or would you like some further credentials?"

"Don't mind him-" interjects Ray. "Brad has trust issues. I doubt if he trusts his own shadow."

"Shut up, Ray." Brad says wearily. If he had a guinea for how many times he had to say that in a week, he would have made a fortune by now.

"What? What did I say now?"

Brad's still staring at Nate. He simply can't help himself."No wonder they call you 'Ganymede'."

He doesn't realise that he's said it out loud until Nate goes a very intriguing shade of pink.

"There's no need to embarrass the lad, it's just a codename." Ray says, nudging Brad.

"We need to find out more about Catherine de' Medici's motives." Sir Francis interrupts to spare any more of Nate's blushes. "I think she is planning a strike against Coligny. He's a threat on the eve of the wedding and her most vocal Huguenot opponent. He has Henri de Navarre's ear. The prince regards him almost as a father. If anyone is capable of persuading him not to go through with the union, it's him ."

"What do you think they will do to him?"

Nate muses. "Poison? Assassination? Catherine will want to send a stark message to the Huguenots. She might be giving their prince her daughter but she is by no means giving them any concessions at all. The people won't let her. She and the king made a lot of enemies with this alliance. De Guise can barely hide his disgust and fury."

"Kind of like a backhanded compliment. Ah, these people are incredible!" Walsingham remarks. "To give with one hand and take with the other, that must really be a Valois gift."

"Do you think she told her daughter to offer her body on the street? To absolute strangers? Bizarre behaviour for a princess."

"Margot herself doesn't want to marry Henri at all. She is madly infatuated with de Guise to a reckless degree, or at least that's what the story is. Her brothers hate it, but the more they push against it, the more she clings to him. He's encouraging her in her rebellion against her mother in the hope she will go with him instead and strengthen his political power." Sir Francis says. "Isn't that right, Nate?"

"Another de Guise grab for power. This is all starting to link up, Sir. So where do we fit in?"

"We join the court, get people talking and find out what the de Guise game plan is."

"We haven't much time, sir."

"That's why Nate here is going to help you." Sir Francis says with no little complacency. "I have every confidence with my best men on the case co-operating with each other, we should be able to c***k the de Guise plot in no time."

He doesn't exactly look very happy about that, but keeps quiet for now.